Three men in two boats. October 2016

The weather forecast looked favourable so an early October trip across Morecambe Bay was arranged.  It was the first trip for Manta 19  ‘Luath’ — a boat that has spent twenty odd years sat on a mooring on Windermere / Ulswater and more recently in a farmer’s field.


Algae is a problem for boats sat idle for long periods out of the sun. However, and here’s a trick, if a boat has been waxed before hand, the green stuff comes off much easier. It took five or six buckets of sea water allied with some good honest elbow grease to get ‘Luath’ looking spic and span.


The three men and two boats arrived at Piel Island and spent the night rafted up side by side.  A shore visit to the island’s one and only public house was made, and for the time of year there was an encouraging number of sailors at the bar making merry.


The Saturday’s out-bound passage was cloudy but generally fine and Sunday’s home-bound passage was fantastic —  we had unadulterated sunshine all the way. The three men and two boats started early to make the most of the tides. As you can see there was a lovely sun rise over over the town of Morecambe. Behold!


Now take a look at the view of the Lake District fells above. This was taken whilst heading up the Barrow channel. We saw a hot air balloon traversing the hillside from the right towards the wind turbines. Rather them than me!


Earlier during the passage home  there was no point  in parting company, so we remained rafted-up.  Thus lucky ‘Luath’ got a free ride home — cheers ‘Sika’!

Now see the fun for yourselves on YouTube: –

Club dock project and The Junior Gods

Bob Hoath reports that our excellent team of construction savy members have completed work on the club dock project. Yes, its finally finished and ready to provide good service. All members, and those interested in becoming members, are welcome to come down and do the  ‘Wardleys Creek board walk’. Come and check it out and chat about anchors, sails, outboards, adventure on the high seas, or anything for that matter . Great views across the River Wyre thrown in to-boat .


Taken from the far-end looking back at the club house.
An array of subterranean chains keep the new jetty from parting company with the land.
The group of houses is where the road emerges from Hambleton Village and skirts around the creek to the club house.

Junior Gods

Us mud berthers are Junior Gods having time off! You didn’t know this?

Around here, some people might suppose that the nice chaps and chapesses on Windermere that are often seen helming in southern ocean rated oilies, sheltered by  gadget festooned consoles and behind enormous stainless steel wheels (auto-helm at a touch of a button) cruising the North Lake are the true kings. They may well be, but we at Wardleys Creek out rank them! This is how it goes: –

The Junior God looked from his place
In the conning towers of heaven,
And he saw the world through the span of space
Like a giant golf-ball driven.
And because he was bored, as some gods are,
With high celestial mirth,
He clutched the reins of a shooting star,
And he steered it down to earth.
The Junior God, ‘mid leaf and bud,
Passed on with a weary air,
Till lo! he came to a pool of mud,
And some hogs were rolling there.
Then in he plunged with gleeful cries,
And down he lay supine;
For they had no mud in paradise,
And they likewise had no swine.

The Junior God forgot himself;
He squelched mud through his toes;
With the careless joy of a wanton boy
His reckless laughter rose.
Till, tired at last, in a brook close by,
He washed off every stain;
Then softly up to the radiant sky
He rose, a god again.

The Junior God now heads the roll
In the list of heaven’s peers;
He sits in the House of High Control,
And he regulates the spheres.
Yet does he wonder, do you suppose,
If, even in gods divine,
The best and wisest may not be those
Who have wallowed awhile with the swine?

The Junior God – Robert William Service

An ACE late summer cruise

Starring Wardley’s ACE (and dashing) skipper Norman Ingram

(Three trips to IOM this year!)



Yacht: Sika
Skipper: Norman Ingham
Crew: Bob Hoath
Date: Sunday 18th September

We met at the clubhouse and straightaway took our supplies down to the boat. Now, the tide didn’t wait for King Cnut so it certain wouldn’t for couple of Wardley’s Creek sailors. With everything checked and carefully stowed aboard the good ship Sika,  we threw off the mooring lines and with the engine made our way down the river on a fast ebbing tide. The depth gauge was dropping fast, but there was no need to worry because were soon making good progress along the pastoral shores of the river Wyre,  passing the plethora of Knott-End moored boats and, sooner that one would have liked, found ourselves out at sea feeling somewhat exposed in that great wet wilderness. Our plan was plain and simple, which was to make it safely across the shallow and turbulent waters of Morecambe Bay and find the Ship Inn on Piel Island. We picked up a mooring in the lee of the magnificent but daunting ruins of Piel Castle. We watched the endless stream of wind-farm work-boats powering their way up the ‘Walney Channel’, who, when traversing the Piel Island anchorages kindly throttle-back in order to smother their enormous wakes, and who more often that not, wave heartily at any passing sailors and fisherman. A couple of cruisers followed us in. With a fast falling tide, a large cruising trimaran decided to dry-out on the mud between us and adjacent Piel Island Inn, it’s cabin lights appeared to grow brighter as the day slowly faded into night. We suppered on corned beef and beans with lashings of Worcestershire Sauce (the Skippers speciality) and discussed our plans over the best part of a bottle of Scotland’s finest.

The next morning was bright and clear, so we set off early and we crept down channel past Seal Beach. There was too much northerly in the prevailing breeze so a hard-wind-on-the-nose plug up the Cumbrian coast as originally planned was out of the question.  We therefore slackened-off  and set sail for Isle of Man. Douglas was to be our first port of call. Very soon we were in the Morecambe Bay wind farms  surrounded by monster wind turbines with slashing rotor blades. Like the haunting ‘Weaping Angels’ scene from the BBC’s Dr. Who series, every time we had to take our eye of them, say to  look down at our charts to make a calculation, when we looked back up, one of them would be intimidatingly close to us!  Putting primeval fears a side, we could only conclude that we were indeed making good our passage. We were under full sail surging along at six knots.

This is what its’ all about: –

A special boat erecting the ‘Weeping Angels’ of the Irish sea

We were able to keep the same tack for about six hours, but eventually had to tack north. At this point in the cruise the skipper spotted a problem with a slack shroud. We furled the sails and motored towards the still distant Douglas Bay.

Wardley’s sailors don’t need to spend tens hours cooped up in an aeroplane to find an exotic location – ten hours in one’s own boat is by far the most satisfing way to go.

The promonade’s electric lights grew brighter as we approached.  And similarly the sights, sounds and smells of the waterside grew in amplitude. Finally we tied up in the outer harbour at about nine pm. Whilst we waited for the gates to open to enter the yacht marina, we watched in boyish awe as the ferry ‘Manuman’ pivoted into it’s dock – all lights blazing. Finally on the twelve chimes of midnight, we crept passed the open gate and snuggling-up alongside the North Quay wall. We were both feeling tired.

Yacht Sika
The North Quay wall.

Tuesday was a maintenance day and I was able to take lunch with a friend from ‘Derbyhaven’ whist the skipper re tensioned the shrouds.

The shrouds needed to be set must tighter.
Sika – a true blue water sailing boat.

The start of our journey home was dictated by the Manx tides and the 7 knot waterline hull speed of a 32 foot ‘Golden Hind’. We calculated to best slip our moorings at 5am as soon as the road bridge would swing open and give us access to the sea.  After leaving the harbour we checked the charts set a course for home. About three hours of passage the sea started to mount up into series after series of moving walls of water. At times we were struck by great green slabs from over the bow.

Green slabs of water – ‘Sika’ shrugged them off!

Looking beyond our own plight we could see ‘Ben my Cree’ passing well to the south on her long dogs-leg to Heysham, and also see a turbine erection vessel passing astern with three towers and all blades set, with it’s jack legs raised clear of the ocean floor.

Ben-my-Cree (on a nicer day)

We made good time and re-entered the pastoral scenes of the River Wyre with the last of the flood, the coarse shrieks of the sea birds were gradually replaced by the singing of their woodland brethren as we swept further inland. The skipper took back the helm as the opening to Wardley’s creek slid into sight to port. Keeping a strict eye on the ‘leading marks, we threaded a path up the narrow channel passing familiar boats, jetties, resident ducks, and sundry, until the bend in the creek marked the end of our voyage. A beautiful spin-turn was deftly executed, and ‘Sika’  gladly secured to her awaiting berth. Our journey was complete at three in the afternoon.
All in all it was a great four days

From a report by Bob Hoath